The Forrest City times., 1887-10-08
CHAPTER xLI.
AM GUILTY.

AM GUILTY.
 "What shall you do ?n asked the duke of the detective; except for finding the portrait set in diamonds, do not see that VIC are any the further for warded."
 "We have 8 certain clew," said Mir. Barton, who fattered himself that he had shown extraordinary penetration. What is the use of the clew, If the womss will not speak ?" cried the duke; 'snotaing can be moro clear than her guilt, but If she will not speak, who is to make her? l have heard of many won- derful things, but l have never yet heard of any power which could force a woman to speak, If she did nos wish to-
 'Go to her, your grace. tell her that If she will give you information as to how and where you can recover the lost jewels, will give you some clew, you Will not prosecute her; she will turn queens witness. l am sure her courage has failed her. can see that"
 "A good idea ," said the duke. l will go at once ]"
 The duchess had gone to her room weeping as her husband had never seen her weep before. Mrs. Grey was still Tn the tapestry-room, the old house. keeper remaining with her. There the duke went, and found Mrs. Grey l seated Tn her usual chair by the win dow, looking deadly pale, but changed. He could not quite understand 1t; she certainly did not look like a guilty thief, Her face was full |. sorrow, but It was dighihed sorrow; there was the light of strong resolution in her eyes. She might have besn a martyr, queen Of sorrow, but she certainly did not look like thief. The duke was per plexed as he looked at her From her elasped hands and closed lips he could have fancied she had been praying, but the prayer ofs thief-the bare idea was ridiculous.
 "Madame," he said gently, "you have done me and mine a grieyous wrong. am not here to reproach you with 1t. but to ask you not to make this wrong greater. want to appeal to your better feelings. My wife has shown you great kindness, great affec- tion. 1 will not ask how you have requited her, but l appeal to your memory of her kindness to tell me where her jewels are .''
 "I can not :" sine murmured.
 Pardon me; that is not true; you can if you will. :"
 "I can not,n she repeated.
 The dukes face darkened.
 That means," he said "tnar you will not :"
 She made no answer.
 You add ingratitude to theft, Mrs. Grau S ha rria6 aunvtig fIa ay- pression of her face startled him; il bore more of the high resolve Of the martyr than the fear of the detected thief.
 II come to you," he continued with offers of mercy. If you will give us some certain clew to the lost jewels. you shall not be prosecuted. If you will not, you must suffer as the law directs"
 Il must suffer-" she said in low tone. My lips are locked. You must do with me what you will" "It is such an incredible thing :" continued the duke. :'You are cer
 ainly lady, well born, well bred, well educated. My wife, out of kindess of her heart, brings you home here, and you repay her by stealing her jewels: it is an unheard of case. Mir. Barton says that you are perhaps not the actual thief; his opinion is that you have been planted here by London gang. I think it very probable too."
 For one half moment her face flushed and her eyes shone with strange light. While he was talking to her, while his words fell like hot lash singing her, she was saying to herself
 "I am not Mrs. Grey; l am not $ thief; l am Marguerite Lady Stair, and the portrait they think l have stolen Is the one my husband gave to me. Ah me, how well l remembern
 "I know" continued the duke :'that you will not like to betray youI accomplices; there Is such a false notion of honor among thieves. If l could persuade you, for your own, for my wife's for my sake, to give us a clew l valued those jewels greatly; they have been in my family for many gen erations. Some among them belonged to my wife's mother, and the duchess is deeply grieyed at their loss. l am SO anxious to recover them that l would almost promise to reward the very thieves themselves ifthey would res tore them. My own self" he continued. "I should never have believed it possible or probable, that you had anything to do with it, if the portrait had not been found in your box"
 "Will you" she asked, tremulously twill you give me few minutes In which'to think"
 "Yes," he replied, gravely; and she turned her face 10 the window. She could see the sun shining on the trees and flowers, warm August sun, yet she felt no heat, the blood ran cold in her veins, her very heart was chilled. What was she to do? How little, when she indnlged herself in her hearts de- sire, had she dreamed of this terrible ending.
 It was in vain to look back now; the deed was done, and she must abide by the oonseque nces, let them be what they might; now she had three minutes to think. Where was she? what had happened? Before her lay the warm glory of the summer afternoon, near her stood the tall, stately figure of the Duke of Meath. It was some time be- | fore she could collect her scattered thoughts, and remember Of what it was she wanted to think.
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